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chrissssssmut · 10 days ago

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Nymphomaniac succubi misamo x demon hunter male reader

THE HUNTER'S BARGAIN (SMUT)

Succubus!Mina x Succubus!Momo x Succubus!Sana x Demon Hunter!Male Reader

AN: Oh God MISAMO Succubi! This story is probably one of my favorite to write hehe. Enjoy!💗

The ruins were quiet when you entered, sword drawn and senses alert. Moonlight painted silver streaks across the cracked altar, where offerings once lay for gods that no longer listened. Now, only whispers echoed here. Faint, feminine ones.

You weren’t surprised.

You’d been tracking demonic energy for weeks—always one step behind the trail of vanished men and melted sigils. But this… this felt like bait. And you, like a fool, walked straight into it.

The scent hit first—cloying sweetness, like roses laced with blood and something far more carnal. Lust. Heavy, oppressive, impossible to ignore.

And then you heard them.

A giggle. A breath. A sigh.

"You made it, hunter," came a smooth voice from the shadows, low and elegant, silk-wrapped steel.

Mina stepped into view first. Graceful. Regal. Wearing something sheer that clung like fog, her eyes unreadable but gleaming. Her horns curled like a crown, her tail swaying with lazy authority.

"We were starting to think you’d never come," said another voice—lighter, sing-song, with a mischievous lilt.

Momo lounged on the broken edge of the altar like it was her throne. Her smile was wide, eyes glittering with amusement. One of her legs swayed back and forth as if bored… or anticipating something delicious.

Then came the third.

"Don’t be mean, Momo," Sana cooed, stepping close enough that you had to grip your blade tighter. She was close—too close. Her fingers brushed your chest, and her smile was far too tender. "He came for us. He couldn’t resist."

You shoved her back.

"You’re demons," you snapped. "I don’t need a reason to kill you."

Sana didn’t even flinch. If anything, she looked delighted.

"Ooh… feisty."

Mina’s head tilted. "But we’re not here to fight, little hunter. We’re here to make a deal."

You scowled. "I don’t make deals with parasites."

"Then make an exception," Momo purred, slipping off the altar and circling behind you, breath warm against your ear. "We only want one night. Let us devour you, and we’ll tell you where the high demon is nesting. You’ll get your victory… and a taste of something sweeter."

Sana twirled a finger in your hair. "Just one night. No tricks. No bindings. Just you… and us."

You could lie to yourself and say you were resisting for justice, but your fists were clenched because your blood was burning. Their presence wasn’t just seductive—it was invading. Magic hummed through the air like the thrum of a drumbeat deep in your chest. Your skin tingled where their gazes lingered.

"I could snap your neck right now," you growled.

Mina stepped closer. "Then why haven’t you?"

You met her gaze. Her lips curled slowly. A cruel little smile.

"...Fine," you bit out. "But I want the truth. About the demon."

"You’ll have it," Mina said, lifting a hand and tracing a glowing rune in the air. It shimmered gold for a second, then burst into flame.

"The circle is sealed," she said. "Now you can’t run."

Momo giggled. "Not that you’ll want to."

Sana leaned into your side, fingers snaking beneath your jacket. "Let’s see what a hunter tastes like."

You reached for your blade again—but it was too late. The circle had sealed.

Their eyes glowed.

Your fate was sealed.

The rune-circle flared beneath your feet.

A blinding rush of heat surged through the stone floor like a living thing, humming up your boots, coiling around your calves, licking higher with each second—like a serpent made of magic. You staggered slightly as the sensation wrapped your thighs, your spine, until it reached the base of your neck and burrowed into your skin like a lover's breath.

It wasn’t pain.

It was possession.

You weren’t afraid—but you were definitely hard. Painfully, shamefully hard. The kind of arousal that made you feel hunted from the inside out. Like your own body had betrayed you the moment they looked at you.

And they knew it.

“Mm, what’s this?” Momo’s voice sing-songed behind you like the sound of wicked wind chimes. Playful, cruel, curious. She stepped into your space with no hesitation, arms coiling around your waist. Her nails dragged across your abdomen, trailing lower.

“All that bravado,” she purred, “but you’re already twitching for us.”

Her fingers traced the outline of your cock beneath your gear—blatant and bold—and you clenched your jaw, fighting the involuntary jerk of your hips.

“Tch—get off—” you growled, trying to twist away. But she only laughed, soft and breathy, and began mouthing at your neck. Her lips grazed skin like silk, then bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

You didn’t know if it was a threat or a kiss.

“Momo,” came Mina’s voice from the front of the room—slow, regal, honey poured over ice. “Don’t break the toy before we’ve unwrapped him.”

Her tone was light, but you heard the command in it. And Momo heard it too.

“Fine,” she said with a mock sigh, licking the shell of your ear one last time. “I’ll be gentle… for now.”

“He’s not a toy,” Sana whispered suddenly from your right.

You hadn’t even noticed her move closer. Her voice was reverent. Starving. One hand brushed your cheek with surprising softness, the other already working at the buckles of your armor—like she'd memorized the way you were put together.

“He’s ours.”

The chest plate hit the stone floor with a heavy clang, echoing like the toll of a bell.

Your breathing grew shallow as their hands moved in tandem—slow, methodical, and maddeningly intimate. Each strap unbuckled, each piece of leather peeled away felt like another wall crumbling. Bit by bit, they unmade your armor, not like enemies disarming a warrior, but like lovers undressing their prize.

You stood there—bare, hard, and surrounded.

Still, you glared at Mina. The last thread of control.

“This is what demons do, huh?” you hissed. “Trap and seduce?”

Mina stepped into your space, and your heartbeat spiked. Her presence was overwhelming. A woman born of dark royalty, magic bleeding from her skin like perfume. She raised her hand and touched your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“No, hunter,” she murmured, voice velvet-dark. “This is what you chose. You could’ve walked away. You wanted this. You wanted us.”

You hated how your knees almost buckled at her tone.

Her voice poured into your head like wine—warm, drugging, delicious—and you could already feel yourself sliding under. Trembling, not from fear… but from anticipation.

“You act like this isn’t what you’ve dreamed of,” Mina whispered, leaning in so close her lips brushed your ear. “Being touched. Worshiped. Ruined.”

Behind you, Momo laughed.

“Mina’s right. You’re so easy to read,” she giggled. “Wanna bet I can make you cum with just my mouth? I’ll edge you until you beg like a good little mutt.”

Sana’s arms looped around your chest like vines made of silk, pulling herself flush against your back. Her lips found the nape of your neck. “Don’t listen to her, baby. You don’t have to beg. I’ll give you everything. I’ll ride you until you cry for it.”

You shuddered as her nails raked down your torso—light, then rough. Every nerve was singing. The magic circle pulsed with your heartbeat, and somewhere deep in your soul, you knew this was more than just physical. They weren’t just touching you. They were claiming you.

Then Mina guided you backward. The altar was cold stone, but you barely felt it. Your mind was heat and heartbeat and the brush of her fingers against your thighs. She pushed your legs apart and knelt between them with the ease of a queen descending to claim her throne.

She looked up at you.

“Don’t look away,” she whispered.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Her lips descended. Slow. Sinful. She didn’t dive in. She savored you. Her tongue dragged a long, deliberate stripe from the base of your cock to the tip, pausing to press a soft, reverent kiss there.

“You taste like anger,” she murmured, voice low and hot against your skin. “I’ll fix that.”

Then her lips wrapped around you, and you nearly lost it right there.

Her mouth was perfect. Warm. Wet. Unyielding. She took you halfway, tongue flicking beneath the head with practiced cruelty. Her throat contracted when you tried to buck. Her hands held your thighs down with elegant force.

“F-fuck…”

Mina smiled around your cock.

Before you could lose your mind, Momo straddled your lap. Her skin was flushed and golden in the firelight. Naked. Hungry. Her hips rocked in lazy, teasing circles against your thigh.

She grinned, watching Mina’s pace, then leaned close.

“She’s good, right?” she whispered. “But I’m better.”

Her fingers pinched your nipple, and you gasped, body twitching.

“You’ll really lose it when it’s my turn.”

You whimpered as Mina slid deeper, suction tightening, her throat working around you like velvet heat. Then—pop—she pulled off with a delicate gasp, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

And Momo shoved you down flat onto the altar.

“My turn~”

She didn’t waste time. Her body was all movement, all pressure. She rocked her soaked folds against your cock, coating you in her slick arousal. But she didn’t let you in. Not yet.

You tried to thrust up.

She smacked your thigh.

“Uh-uh,” she giggled. “Not until you beg. Say please, hunter. Say you need it.”

You growled, grabbing her hips, trying to wrest control—but she only smiled wider, like that was exactly what she wanted.

Then, without warning, she sank down. All of her. In one smooth, wet plunge.

Your head hit the altar with a groan.

“Oh fuck—”

“Yessss,” Momo moaned, rolling her hips. “That’s it. Stretch me. Fill me. Fucking use me.”

The rune circle throbbed with each thrust. Every movement echoed in your bones, magnified by the magic. You couldn’t tell where her heat ended and yours began.

From the edge of the altar, Sana watched with wide eyes and flushed skin, fingers buried between her thighs. Her voice was low, broken with breath. “You’re so beautiful like this. Ruined. Shaking. Desperate.”

Momo leaned down and bit your lip.

“Don’t finish yet,” she whispered, eyes glowing. “We’re not done with you.”

She pulled off, slick and gasping—and just when your orgasm threatened to snap—

Sana was there.

Her body coiled over yours like vines in bloom. She grabbed your wrists, pinned them down, and kissed you so hard you saw stars. Then she aligned herself—and slammed down onto your cock.

You choked.

“I need it,” she moaned, trembling. “I’ve needed you for so long.”

You tried to speak. To push her back. But she caught your face between her hands and rode you like you were the only thing keeping her alive.

“Mine,” she snarled. “You’re mine now.”

Her nails raked blood across your chest. Her pace was desperate—sloppy and perfect. She kissed you between every moan, her voice breaking.

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” she hissed, hips slamming into yours. “I’ll fuck you until you forget every other name but mine. You love this. You love me. Say it.”

You couldn’t.

You came.

Harder than you ever had.

Your body arched. Your scream echoed through the runes. And Sana collapsed against your chest, twitching through her own orgasm, sobbing your name like a prayer.

But the circle didn’t break.

Because Mina was already crawling over you again, her fingers glowing with summoned power.

“Oh no, hunter,” she purred, straddling your hips with slow grace. “We said one night…”

Her smile deepened.

“Not one round.”

The air reeked of sex, sweat, and something older. Darker. A magic that curled around your spine like smoke.

You should’ve been done. Spent. Empty.

But the circle pulsed again.

And Mina's voice cut through your haze like the whisper of a blade.

“Don’t fade yet, hunter,” she purred, her bare thighs straddling your hips again. Her cunt hovered just above your cock—still twitching, still hard. “We’re not even close to done.”

Your hands clenched against the stone.

“No,” you growled.

Mina raised a brow.

“No?” she echoed, amused.

You sat up fast, forcing Sana off your chest and catching Mina by the shoulders before she could mount you again. She gasped—just barely surprised—and you pushed her back, flipping her onto her back. For a moment, just a breath, you were in control. Your body moved on instinct, adrenaline cutting through the afterglow like a blade through silk.

“You think I’m just gonna lie here and let you use me?” you hissed, looming over her. “I’m not some toy for you to—”

Before you could finish, something snaked around your wrist.

You barely had time to look down before another slick, smooth appendage looped around your other arm—tightening—and then more coiled around your ankles, dragging your legs wide open.

“What the f—?”

They were tails.

Prehensile. Velvet-slick. Unbelievably strong.

Momo stood behind you, smirking as her long, shadowy tail wound around your chest like a rope, yanking you backward until your spine hit the altar. “Aw, you thought you had a choice?” she teased. “That’s cute.”

Her tail stroked your abs, down your hip, before sliding deliberately along your shaft. You twitched—still sensitive, still hard.

“You came once,” Sana whispered, her own tail curling around your thigh like a snake ready to strike. “That doesn’t mean we’re done.” Her voice dropped, trembling with need. “You’re still hard. Still leaking. Still ours.”

You thrashed against their grip, muscles burning with resistance. “Let me go.”

Mina leaned over you again, her tail slithering around your neck like a choker—tight enough to warn, loose enough to tease. Her hair brushed your cheek as she whispered:

“You can fight us all night, hunter. We like it when they struggle.”

Then you screamed—because three slick tails coiled around your cock.

Not tightly—perfectly. Stroking. Twisting. Teasing.

You tried to buck, but Momo's tail wrapped tighter around your chest, pinning you down. Sana climbed onto your chest, straddling your ribs as she kissed you with wild, open hunger. Her tongue tasted like sin. Her hands cradled your face like she was holding a holy relic.

“We’ll edge you for hours,” she moaned against your lips. “We’ll make you cum without ever touching you directly. We’ll break you, baby.”

Mina’s tail squeezed gently at the base of your cock while the tip rubbed lazy circles just beneath your tip.

“You’ll beg us to let you finish,” she whispered. “And we’ll still say no.”

You were panting now, head thrashing side to side. Your cock pulsed under their touch—every stroke, every squeeze, too much and not enough.

“You’re not ready to cum yet,” Momo sang. “Not until you’re crying. Not until you’re ruined.”

You shouted in defiance, hips jerking—only for their tails to tighten and stop you cold. One stroked your tip with obscene gentleness. Another dragged along the underside of your shaft, teasing your most sensitive spot.

It was hell.

It was heaven.

“I can feel it,” Mina whispered, mouth at your ear. “You’re close again, aren’t you? Already?”

You bit your lip. Blood beaded.

Sana cupped your face. “Let go,” she whispered. “Or don’t. Either way… we’ll make you ours.”

The rune-circle glowed brighter.

And your body betrayed you.

Your cock throbbed violently—but they stopped.

Everything stopped.

No stimulation. No release. Just that ache. That overwhelming, unbearable need.

You snarled, desperate, humiliated.

Mina laughed softly.

“Round three, then.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat pooled beneath your back, chest heaving like you’d fought through hell—and maybe you had. But you were still hard. Still bound. The succubi’s tails slithered over your body like serpents of living silk, every twitch, every stroke a cruel tease.

Your cock was flushed, twitching, leaking—angry red and glistening under the altar’s glow.

“You’re such a mess,” Momo purred, crouching over you like a beast in heat. “All that fighting, and now look at you. Cock begging. Body shaking. And we’ve barely even started.”

She mounted you again—fast, without warning. You gasped as she slid down your length, wet heat engulfing you with a tight, greedy grip.

“Fuck—Momo—”

Her hips rolled smoothly, grinding against your pelvis in slow, intoxicating waves. Her hands flattened on your chest as she leaned over you, eyes locked to yours.

“But you don’t get to finish,” she whispered with a smirk.

Before you could respond, she lifted off. Pulled off. Her folds slicked your shaft, and your body screamed for release—but it never came.

You thrashed, moaning through your teeth.

“No—!”

Sana was already there to replace her. She was trembling with need, her thighs soaked, her mouth slack with hunger. She slid onto you slowly, her eyes fluttering shut with every inch she took.

“I need this,” she moaned. “I need to feel you inside while you suffer—while you belong to us.”

Her walls clenched around you in maddening pulses. You tried to thrust—anything to reach the edge she teased—but her tail coiled tighter around your hips, holding you still.

Then she moved.

Not with rhythm—but chaos. Wild, frantic, desperate bouncing that made you twitch on the brink of orgasm so violently, your vision blurred.

And then she stopped.

Pulled off.

Your scream echoed through the chamber—raw and animalistic.

“Please—fuck—”

“Not yet,” Mina cooed, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. She wasn’t riding you. Not yet. Instead, she held a blade.

Not metal.

A curved, obsidian dagger that shimmered with demonic runes.

“You’re resisting again,” she whispered. “Let’s fix that.”

You didn’t even have time to flinch before she dragged the blade along your collarbone—slow, deliberate. It wasn’t deep, but it burned like fire. You howled, back arching off the altar as blood trickled down your chest.

Mina kissed the wound, moaning softly.

“First mark,” she whispered. “You’ll wear more.”

Another cut—your thigh this time. Momo ground down on your lap harder as she watched your skin split.

“Yes,” she moaned, licking her lips. “Scream for us again.”

And you did—another guttural cry as Mina carved a third mark over your ribs. Each wound bled slowly, the rune-circle glowing brighter with every drop.

Sana’s lips found your neck, and her fangs—small but razor-sharp—bit down.

You shouted, jerking beneath them.

“I want to hear more,” she growled against your skin. “You scream so sweet when we hurt you.”

They took turns again.

Momo climbed back on, hips pistoning in quick, furious thrusts. She rode you to the very edge—and then lifted off right before you could cum. Her tail wrapped tight around your shaft again, holding you in that painful, impossible place between ecstasy and agony.

Sana straddled your hips, her pussy so hot it burned. She rode you slow, her nails digging into your bloodied chest, every bounce making you twitch uncontrollably—until she stopped again, laughing when you sobbed.

“You want to cum?” she asked softly. “Then beg.”

But you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t think.

Only Mina remained.

She stood at the edge of the altar, watching the carnage she orchestrated. Her body was flawless—lit by magic, glowing like a goddess of sin. She approached slowly, dragging her nails across your marked chest, letting your own blood paint her fingers.

“Your body’s almost broken,” she whispered. “But not yet. I want to see what happens when we ruin your soul.”

She sank down onto your cock—perfect, deliberate, inch by inch until her thighs met yours. And this time—she didn’t ride you.

She fucked you.

Hard.

Vicious.

Relentless.

Her tail wrapped around your throat. Momo and Sana’s tails returned to your shaft, pumping in rhythm with her thrusts, squeezing, teasing, stretching you beyond reason.

And you cried out—not just from pain. From desperation. From need.

You were right there.

So close.

But Mina leaned down, lips brushing your bloodied mouth.

“You’ll cum,” she whispered. “When we say you can.”

And then she stopped.

You weren’t sure how long it had been. The circle pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath you, raw magic binding your limbs, seeping into your skin, your bones. You were slick with sweat, streaked with blood, and your cock was still hard—red, twitching, aching like it might burst.

You had begged.

Once.

And they smiled when you did.

Now, Mina knelt over you again, her cunt glistening with your torment, her thighs trembling. She was soaked, ravenous, her eyes glowing bright as embers. Momo and Sana flanked you, each of their tails still wrapped around your cock, alternating soft strokes and brutal squeezes—every touch designed to edge, not release.

But something shifted.

You could feel it.

They were done teasing.

“You’ve lasted longer than most,” Mina whispered, cupping your face with a blood-slick hand. “But even you have limits.”

Her tail tightened around your throat, cutting off your words as she lined herself up with your cock and slammed down.

You choked—half on your breath, half on the heat of her. Her walls milked you instantly, dragging your swollen length into a velvet vice of pulsing, wet heat.

Momo’s mouth found your nipple, teeth grazing. Sana’s tongue traced one of your bleeding wounds, moaning like she was tasting something divine.

“You’re gonna cum for us now,” Sana whispered, straddling your face. “And we’re gonna drink every drop.”

You tried to resist.

But your body betrayed you again.

Your hips bucked.

Mina moaned, hard and loud, riding you with brutal purpose now—no rhythm, no grace, just pure, relentless use. Her hands pinned your shoulders, and the three of them moved in unholy harmony.

Momo’s tail squeezed the base of your cock, then pumped, twisting.

Sana’s thighs clenched around your face, dripping onto your mouth, her moans cracked and high as she grinded on your tongue.

Your vision blurred. Your body tensed.

And then—

“Now,” Mina snarled.

Your orgasm tore through you like a storm.

You screamed.

Loud. Raw. Unfiltered. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was exorcism. The first pulse of cum hit Mina deep, and she shivered, eyes rolling back.

The second didn’t go to her.

She pulled off just in time.

Momo was already there, mouth wide open, catching the next shot of your release with a lust-dazed giggle.

“Fuck yes—he tastes divine—”

Sana was next, lowering her mouth over your tip just in time to catch the third pulse. She moaned around you, eyes fluttering shut, tongue swirling.

“More,” she gasped. “More. Give us everything.”

You couldn’t stop.

Even if you wanted to.

Your cock kept twitching, kept shooting, your body convulsing under their worship.

Mina leaned down, catching the last strings of your cum with her tongue, licking up your length like it was sacred.

Then she smiled.

“You came,” she whispered. “Good boy.”

But they didn’t stop.

“Oh no,” Momo whispered, already climbing over your lap again. “We’re not done. Not until you're empty.”

You whimpered—yes, whimpered—as your over-sensitive cock was guided back inside Momo’s dripping, needy pussy.

And she rode you hard.

No warning. No buildup.

She bounced with wild, frenzied rhythm, her nails digging into your thighs as she fucked you past your own climax, using your twitching, spent cock like it was still hard.

But it was.

Somehow, impossibly, the circle kept you hard.

Sana sat on your face again, grinding with abandon, crying out as she came—once, then again—each orgasm drawing more energy from you.

Your arms wouldn’t move.

Your hips trembled uncontrollably.

And Mina?

She watched.

One hand between her thighs, the other drawing runes across your chest in your own blood.

“You’re ours now,” she said softly. “Drained. Broken. Marked.”

Momo screamed as she came again, soaking your lap, body twitching as she collapsed forward.

Sana followed next, twitching violently, her juices dripping down your chin.

And still… they wanted more.

Mina climbed on, once more.

Slow this time.

Cruel.

She fucked you with purpose—to leave her mark deep inside, to own your last ounce of energy.

You sobbed against her chest, unable to move, unable to stop the final orgasm being ripped from your soul.

You came again—dry this time, painful, shaking—and Mina came with you, her cry a chorus of power and corruption.

When she slid off you, your body collapsed.

Eyes glazed.

Chest heaving.

Cock soft, twitching, stained with cum and blood.

“Good boy,” Mina murmured, brushing your soaked hair back. “You gave us everything.”

“And we’ll take more,” Momo added, licking her fingers.

Sana kissed your cheek, soft and sweet, as you slipped into unconsciousness.

They were still wrapped around you.

Their marks bled softly.

And the circle glowed—sated.

For now.

You woke to darkness—thick and wet, like the inside of a mouth. The rune-circle had dimmed to a low, pulsating glow beneath your body, casting everything in a red sheen like dried blood under moonlight. You were lying on something soft now—pillows, fur, silk. A nest.

And they were still with you.

Mina’s body was curled at your side, her hand resting on your chest, fingers idly stroking one of the wounds she’d carved into you. Momo lay draped over your legs, her lips parted in sleep, still wet with your release. Sana’s arms were tight around your head, your face buried against her breasts, her breath soft against your ear.

You ached. Everywhere.

Your cock twitched—spent, raw, but already hardening again under their presence.

You swallowed, throat dry.

“…The Demon King,” you rasped.

Mina stirred.

“Hm?” she murmured, not opening her eyes.

“Our deal,” you said, more firmly this time. “You were going to take me to him.”

Momo giggled, not even bothering to sit up. “Aww, he remembers.”

“You made a pact,” you growled, trying to sit up—but your limbs felt heavy, wrapped in silk and tail. Even your voice lacked conviction. You could feel it—them—still inside you somehow. Still draining you slowly, inch by inch.

Sana kissed your temple, voice thick with honey and sleep. “Mmm. We said we’d take you after we had our fun.”

“This is our fun,” Momo added, licking your thigh.

You turned to Mina, anger barely keeping you coherent. “You lied.”

Finally, she opened her eyes. No guilt. Just that slow, dangerous smile you were learning to hate.

“We never lie, hunter,” she said sweetly. “We just leave things… unsaid.”

Her hand slipped lower, dragging a lazy finger down your stomach, to your cock—which, traitor that it was, was already standing again under their heat and scent.

“You really think the Demon King cares about you?” Mina whispered. “You think he’d let you touch him? You think he doesn’t already have a thousand slaves to bleed dry?”

Momo’s mouth wrapped softly around your tip, just a flicker of tongue. Enough to make you moan.

“You need us,” Sana whispered. “You belong to us.”

“No—” you groaned, trying to move, to pull away—but your arms were pinned by soft thighs, tangled tails, velvet kisses.

“You came so hard for us,” Momo giggled between licks. “Came so much. And you’ll keep doing it. Again. And again. And again.”

Mina leaned down until her lips brushed yours.

“Let us show you what forever feels like.”

You tried to resist.

But then—

Their tails bound you again. Ankles. Wrists. Throat.

Momo stroked you to full hardness with slow, devastating precision.

Sana kissed her way down your chest, licking over old wounds and new ones as her nails dug in again—marking you fresh.

And Mina—oh, Mina—straddled your chest and looked down at you like a goddess over a willing sacrifice.

“Don’t worry, hunter,” she whispered, lowering herself just over your face, her wet folds hovering, dripping. “We are the rulers you belong to now.”

Momo’s relentless rhythm never faltered, her breath hitching with each movement as she teased and taunted, spitting on your cock, slick and warm. Meanwhile, Sana’s hands left fresh marks on your skin, each scratch burning as she claimed you in her own way. And Mina, with a soft laugh, slid herself against your mouth, the heat of her pussy consuming you as you struggled beneath their control.

It hit you all at once: you were never going to escape. The mission, whatever semblance of it there was, was long forgotten. You had given up the fight, letting yourself sink deeper into their world. Three succubi, each with their own brand of temptation, had you. And you, helpless, let yourself fall into their grasp. They were far from done with you, each of them using you, bending you to their will. You didn’t know when—if ever—they would stop, and that uncertainty, that endless desire, kept you trapped in their cycle.

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singswan-springswan · 1 year ago

Text

ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased.

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone.

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems.

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching.

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face.

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun.

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer.

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things.

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko.

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

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